The Otaku's Odyssey: Reincarnated with a Grand System

"Sigh! Mom, you've been hugging me for the past five minutes now," Astrid muttered, his face squashed awkwardly against his mother's chest like a smothered pillow. "I can't feel my lungs. Seriously. They're on vacation."

Lia didn't flinch. If anything, her grip tightened like a vice. Tears continued to stream down her face. "Of course, I'm holding you tight," she sniffled. "I should never have let you go to the shopping mall alone. Look at you. All injured and—and bruised! Like a battle-worn puppy!"

Astrid rolled his eyes and turned his head to glance at the maid standing dutifully by the door. He threw her a pleading look. The universal signal for Help me before I suffocate.

She smiled.

And walked away.

Betrayal.

"Where's Dad?" Astrid asked, desperately trying to change the subject before he turned blue.

"Your father had an important meeting," Lia said, sniffling louder now. "He couldn't make it. Just rest in my arms, dear. Don't strain yourself talking… Just let Mother love you."

'Love me? Or murder me with affection?' Astrid thought, wincing. 'And what kind of meeting is more important than seeing your hospitalized son? Is he doing peace talks with dragons?'

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Meanwhile...

"Astrid must be awake by now," Orion Ethera mused aloud, lounging in the back of a sleek, black limousine. The leather seats gleamed, untouched by time or dust. The interior was large enough to host a tea party, but only he sat in it—legs crossed, coat draped over his shoulders like royalty.

He wore a navy blue suit, sharp and tailored to perfection. The kind of outfit that said: Yes, I can both attend high-level meetings and obliterate you in a duel.

"Yes, my Lord. I know you're worried, but this meeting is vital," the driver said, his hands steady on the steering wheel.

Orion scoffed. "Worried? About that little gremlin? Please. Since when have you seen me worry?"

The driver wisely didn't answer.

Outside the tinted windows, the skyline sparkled—modern high-rises lined up like armored sentinels. Mana-infused billboards floated midair, announcing magical tournaments, auction sales, and new cultivation techniques.

"It's been ages since the Major Families last gathered," Orion murmured, adjusting his cuffs.

"Indeed, my Lord. The Scarlet Vein's activity has forced this meeting."

"Ah, the Scarlet Vein," Orion said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "A bunch of robed lunatics obsessed with blood rituals and cryptic chants. Delightful dinner guests."

"Still, they are a threat. And to our continent at that."

"Of course they are," Orion said, feigning a dramatic sigh. "Which is why I get to spend my afternoon locked in a room with seven overfed, overpowered, overly chatty geezers."

The driver gave a polite chuckle.

Orion leaned against the window, letting his thoughts wander. He could've arrived instantly with teleportation. Within minutes in fact, but appearances mattered. Formality was a language the great families respected.

Thirty minutes later, the limousine slowed.

"We're here, my Lord."

"Finally," Orion muttered.

Before him loomed a grand estate. The mansion was more fortress than house—ancient stone walls wrapped in enchantments, vast grounds guarded by elite mages whose auras shimmered like burning stars.

Dozens of luxury vehicles were already parked.

"Last to arrive," Orion noted, stepping out with an air of practiced nonchalance. "Perfect. The drama begins."

The moment his foot hit the marble entryway, he felt it—pressure.

Dense, ancient aether saturated the atmosphere. Enough to crush lesser beings. The very walls pulsed with power.

A maid stood waiting. She bowed. "Please allow me to escort you, Lord Ethera."

Orion nodded, grunting softly. "Lead the way."

They ascended a wide spiral staircase, each step echoing with quiet tension. The maid didn't speak—just gestured toward the massive doors at the top.

Orion paused.

He could feel the pressure emanating from the room,'They already know am here— what's the point of wasting time.'

He entered.

The room was circular, the ceiling high and domed. Floating crystals cast ambient light, bathing the round table at the center in a silver glow. Carved from ancient Wyrmwood, the table was big enough to seat twenty

Yet, only seven people graced the table with their presence.

Seven heads of the Eight Major Families.

And now, the eighth had arrived.

All eyes turned to Orion. Some cold. Some curious. Some... annoyed.

Orion offered a faint smile. The kind that said I know I'm late. And I don't care.

He made his way to the empty chair and sat without ceremony.

"Well, well," a voice sneered from his left. "The youngling finally graces us with his presence."

Orion didn't look. He didn't need to. He recognized that nasal tone anywhere.

Blake Thane.

Head of the Thane Clan. Alchemy specialists. Makers of potions, elixirs, and self-righteous speeches. Though they were the weakest family, as most didn't specialize in combat, they could easily topple over a country with the country with the current strength they possessed

"You kept us waiting an hour! No respect for tradition, no discipline. Truly, the Ethera family has fallen."

Orion closed his eyes and exhaled slowly.

Blake slammed his palm on the table. "How dare you ignore me!"

Mana burst from his body, swirling like a storm. The strength of a Kyrium stage mage laid bare.

"This is exactly why I opposed your appointment as head! You're too young, too arrogant!"

Orion opened his eyes. Slowly. Like a lion acknowledging a barking dog.

His gaze locked with Blake's. Cold. Measured.

And Blake flinched. Just a twitch. But in this room, every detail mattered.

"Are you done with your tantrum?" Orion asked, voice smooth as silk and twice as cutting.

Before Blake could retort, another voice thundered through the chamber.

"Enough."

It was not a suggestion.

All heads turned.

Onyx Nightingale.

Leader of the Nightingale Family. The most powerful of the eight. Hair like silver fire, one eye milky-white with a scar slicing through it. The aura he released was like that of a chained tiger, waiting for the right moment to be released to hunt.

He radiated authority.

Predatory. Regal. Lethal.

"Spare us your petty squabbles," Onyx growled. "We're here to discuss the Scarlet Vein. Not your bruised egos."

Blake sat down, his face red with anger. Orion leaned back, satisfied.

Onyx withdrew his aura. Everyone exhaled.

"Now that that's over," he said, voice cold as iron, "shall we begin?"

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